


Mrs Hudson Objects

by undun



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Humour, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undun/pseuds/undun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs Hudson would like to ask, just how thick do you think she is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mrs Hudson Objects

The first time Martha Hudson found Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson in bed together she was concerned.

 

“Nothing to worry about, Mrs Hudson,” whispered the good Doctor when she gently eased the door open, having heard no response to her hails. She hardly knew what to say when the Doctor eased his way out of the narrow bed, managing to leave the other occupant slumbering undisturbed.

 

He’s had practice at that, she thought to herself.

 

“Mister Holmes was very cold last night,” said Doctor Watson as he guided her out to the sitting room, closing the bedroom door behind them. “Very cold, indeed,” he repeated, looking as if this would, of course, explain everything. Martha could feel her eyes popping with astonishment. Doctor Watson’s calm smile slipped and he frowned slightly down at her.

 

“Well, as you must know Mrs Hudson – the most effective way to stave off hypothermia is to share body heat with the person so afflicted. I should have done so with anybody!”

 

Martha closed her mouth, which she hadn’t realised had been gaping in an unattractive manner. “Of course, Doctor. It was fortunate for Mister Holmes that you were here, I must say!”

 

Doctor Watson smiled his charming smile once more.

 

“Just so, Mrs Hudson; it was a lucky thing. Have you brought breakfast?”

 

“All laid out on the table for you, Doctor,” she replied, walking back to the sitting room door.

 

“Splendid! What would we do without you, Mrs Hudson?” So saying the Doctor sat down at the table and began to serve up his breakfast.

 

It was then that Martha noticed the good Doctor’s collar – the collar of his hastily re-buttoned nightshirt. She knew that he had re-buttoned it, as he had missed a buttonhole and the collar was skewed. She did not peer, she did not cran; she did not ogle. She simply stopped at the threshold, her hand on the doorknob, and there – when the Doctor reached forward, and his dressing gown shifted – she saw the missed buttonhole. And it was just above his waist.

 

“I hope Mister Holmes will be recovered soon.”

 

The Doctor smiled his warm smile and his eyes twinkled. Martha closed the door.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The second time Martha Hudson found Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson in bed together she was shocked.

 

“No need to worry, Mrs Hudson,” whispered the good Doctor, when she eased the door open after hearing no response to her knocking.

 

Doctor Watson somehow managed to clamber over the sleeping detective without rousing him. That must have taken some practice, she thought.

 

“Mister Holmes had a nightmare,” he said to her. His reassuring voice sounded thoroughly reassuring.

 

“A nightmare?” she asked as her took her elbow and steered her back into the sitting room. He shut the bedroom door behind them.

 

“Yes, quite a bad one. He’s seen some terrible things in his career, you understand. Is that breakfast, Mrs Hudson? I could eat a horse!”

 

“Yes, Doctor. I’ve done up some black pudding today,” Martha said. She watched as the Doctor settled himself at the table.

 

“Marvellous! I used to eat it as a child – one of my favourites.”

 

She paused at the doorway, her hand on the knob. All of the Doctor’s buttons matched up neat as soldiers on parade. However, they could not negate the fact that the Doctor’s dressing gown was inside out.

 

“I do hope Mister Holmes will feel better when he wakes up.”

 

The Doctor beamed at her with his charming smile. “I shall get him up for this lovely repast presently, Mrs Hudson.”

 

Martha closed the door.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The third time Martha Hudson found Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson in bed together she was annoyed.

 

“No cause for alarm,” whispered Doctor Watson when she opened the door after no response.

 

This is becoming a habit, she thought.

 

“Er,”

 

The Doctor did not rise expertly from the narrow bed. It was hard to see how he could, pinned as he was by Mister Holmes’ senseless form. Martha waited expectantly.

 

Doctor Watson bent to whisper something in Mister Holmes’ ear. Martha heard a slight huff and the detective rolled to one side, leaving the Doctor a means to exit. Mister Holmes slumbered on. The Doctor finally stood beside Martha and they both considered the sleeping man in front of them. The bedclothes had moved to reveal an unclothed arm.

 

“Cramps,” whispered Doctor Watson. “Very bad cramps. His diet has always been inadequate – you know that, of course,” explained the Doctor as they walked back into the sitting room, the Doctor closing the door behind them. “I had to massage some liniment into the affected limbs through the night. I must have dropped off to sleep at some point.”

 

“Understandable, Doctor! You must be exhausted. Mister Holmes is lucky to have you here to assist him.”

 

“Just so, Mrs Hudson. Is that the aroma of kippers I detect in the air this morning?”

 

Martha smiled. “Yes, indeed it is, sir.”

 

“It is exactly what I desired for breakfast today, however did you know, Mrs Hudson?”

 

His look of boyish delight quite melted her heart and she chuckled as she put her hand on the doorknob. She paused in the doorway. It was only then that she realised that the Doctor’s dressing gown covered nothing but the Doctor. Martha smiled.

 

“I do hope Mister Holmes will not be in any further pain today.”

 

The Doctor smiled sunnily at her and his blue eyes glowed. “I feel sure he will be much rested after his sleep-in this morning.”

 

Martha closed the door.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The fourth time Martha Hudson found Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson in bed together she was undetected.

 

She placed the breakfast tray on the table and heard an odd sound coming from Mister Holmes’ bedroom. She stood still, holding a hand to the edge of the table as if to stop it from breathing too loud – though it was she that gasped as she recognised the faint sounds that travelled through the door of the bedroom.

 

She had no wish to interrupt the two gentlemen at such an inopportune moment, but the breakfast would get cold! Perhaps… if she were to just let Doctor Watson know it was ready? He does so enjoy a hearty breakfast.

 

Martha stood before the door, undecided. The noises from within continued, and indeed seemed to increase in frequency until a sudden quiet descended. Martha sighed in relief. She knocked smartly on the door.

 

“One moment!” Doctor Watson called from within. Martha waited patiently.

 

Two minutes later Doctor Watson emerged from the bedroom. Martha caught a glimpse of Mister Holmes splayed on the bed behind him, sound asleep. At least he’s decently covered, she thought.

 

The Doctor smiled at her. “Insomnia,” he explained as he shut the door behind them. “Alas, when Mister Holmes cannot sleep, neither must I.”

 

Martha saw a warm flush in the Doctor’s face, and he was almost panting as he spoke. “I’m sure, Doctor,” she responded without thinking. But the good Doctor was already heading for the table.

 

“Ah, breakfast! And… is that scrambled eggs, Mrs Hudson?”

 

“Yes, it is, sir. I know how much you like them, which is why I knocked on the door. I didn’t want them to get cold, Doctor,” she said.

 

“You knew I was in there?” Doctor Watson asked. He looked startled.

 

She scrutinised the Doctor’s collar (indeed, he had one today); buttons all accounted for, however, there was something not quite right. She looked carefully and realised that he was not wearing his own dressing gown, but Mister Holmes’. The sleeves were tight over his arms, and somewhat too long.

 

“I thought that there’d be a chance of it, Doctor; Mister Holmes has been so unwell lately.”

 

“Ah, yes. Poor chap.”

 

“I do hope he manages some more sleep,” Martha said as she grasped the doorknob.

 

Doctor Watson smiled his glowing, and slightly sweaty, smile. His flushed cheeks accentuated his already startling blue eyes. “Oh, I’m sure he will now, Mrs Hudson. I have administered a treatment that has never failed.”

 

Martha closed the door.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

The fifth time Mrs Hudson found Mister Holmes and Doctor Watson in bed together, she didn’t.

 

That is to say – Mister Holmes was not actually in his bed; he was standing beside it and the good Doctor was lying in it sound asleep. The door to the bedroom was open and Mrs Hudson made these observations as she laid the tea tray on the table.

 

She walked towards the open door and said <i>sotto voce</i>, “Breakfast is on the table Mister Holmes.”

 

The detective looked at her, then looked at the Doctor in his bed, then back at her. Mrs Hudson smiled. She turned to walk back through the sitting room.

 

“Mrs Hudson,” came a harsh whisper from behind her. She turned.

 

Mister Holmes was tying his dressing gown and closing the door behind him. “You are no doubt wondering why Doctor Watson is sleeping in my bed?”

 

Martha considered this question. “Well, it is a bit unusual come to think of it,” she began.

 

“Ah. I can explain–”

 

“Yes, because he is usually the first one of you to get up – he does so enjoy a hot breakfast!”

 

Mister Holmes stared at her for a moment.

 

“You know everything.”

 

“Well, I doubt that, sir! However, I do know that you two have been sleeping in the same bed for some months now, and that you are likely committing some summary offences against each other’s persons,” she said chuckling.

 

Martha wasn’t sure, but she did think that Mister Holmes went one shade paler than usual. She hastened to reassure him.

 

“Oh, you needn’t worry about exposure from me, Mister Holmes! I had a word with the Inspector when we saw what you were up to and he assures me that he and his constables are sweeping it under the rug, so to speak.”

 

Mister Holmes groped blindly for a chair and promptly fell into it. He stared at the tablecloth.

 

“Poached eggs this morning, sir,” Martha said, pointing at the covered serving dish. “Will the Doctor be up in time to eat them hot?”

 

Mister Holmes raised his eyes to her face, “I shall get him up now,” he said faintly.

 

“I hope he’s all right then, sir?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Mister Holmes said, rising and turning for the bedroom door. “He doesn’t often suffer me to… in any case, I fear I quite exhausted him. He should be recovered now.” He opened the door and called softly to the occupant of the bed.

 

Mrs Hudson closed the door. She stood on the other side for a moment.

 

“Honestly, gentlemen!” she muttered to herself, “Just how thick do you think I am?”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 


End file.
